


Waking Up In Vegas

by orphan_account



Category: Olympics RPF, Royalty RPF, Swimming RPF
Genre: Drunk Sex, Drunkenness, Las Vegas, Love Letters, M/M, hangovers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-17
Updated: 2014-06-17
Packaged: 2018-02-05 01:06:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 715
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1799839
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The morning after Ryan’s royal affair in Sin City.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Waking Up In Vegas

* * *

Ryan wakes up with blue glitter in his hair and a note safety pinned to his shirt the way his teachers used to do when he got into trouble in elementary school. The fact that he’s wearing nothing but his shirt doesn’t bother him.

Like, really... we’re talking about Ryan _Fucking_ Lochte here; a guy who once woke up duct taped to a fire hydrant with the words _“Get Crazy With The Cheez Whiz”_ written on his face in red Sharpie after a night of partying. Nothing can phase a man after that.

He shakes the glitter out of his hair the best he can but there’s so much of it that he knows he’ll need a fine-toothed comb and a lot of conditioner to get the rest out; a little trick he picked up after an incident at his twenty-first birthday party involving his sister Kristin and a rather large bucket of gold glitter. He sits up in bed and unhooks the safety pin from his shirt, pricks his finger on the needle point and curses under his breath. He unfolds the note and squints to get a good look at the barely legible handwriting, reading it as he sucks on his pricked finger.

 

_Ryan,_

_Last night was wonderful. Urgent business has called me back to London earlier than I had planned. I should’ve woken you to say goodbye but you looked so peaceful I couldn’t bring myself to disturb you. I promise I’ll call as soon as I get a chance. There’s nothing in the world I want more than to be with you again and I pray that you feel the same way._

_All My Love, Harry_

 

Ryan’s shocked, to say the least. Not at the fact that Harry left a note, but that it was really from Harry.

Harry was, like, royalty. Third in line for the throne of England and all that.

Such a title seemed so totally opposite from the explosively freckled, copper haired wild child who just last night had egged him on until he jumped into the hotel pool with all of his clothes on, racing from one end to the other. Harry’s hellion smile after climbing out of the pool, waterlogged jeans only being held up by a rather conservative brown leather belt, was infectious. What followed was no doubt one of the best nights of Ryan’s life.

Bottles were popped, money was thrown in the air to make it rain, pretty girls came and went, yet through it all Harry was inexplicably always an arm’s length away. Ryan even remembers holding the Prince’s hand at one point. And when the other members of their so-called entourages all stumbled up to their rooms to sleep off the alcohol, Harry had set one hand against the back of Ryan’s neck as his other hand sneaked under the swimmer’s shirt and pulled him in for a kiss that left Ryan breathless.

After that it was a race up to Ryan’s hotel room; the two of them laughing and almost tripping over each other every few steps. They barely made it inside the swimmer’s suite before going at it right there, Harry’s legs hitched up on Ryan’s bare hips as they fucked standing up against the door they had shut behind them only moments earlier. Before Ryan has a chance to ponder his current situation any longer there is a knock on the door and a voice on the other side saying, “Housekeeping” in an annoyingly cheerful tone.

Ryan groans, suddenly realizing that he’s in Las Vegas and he’s got one hell of a hangover. Hangovers have always seemed worse for Ryan when he’s in the great state of Nevada. Something about the weather makes his head pound more than usual and his stomach churn like a rickety old clothes dryer set on high. It’s like his body loses all proper function when he crosses the state line.

“Housekeeping,” the voice on the other side of the door says in an upbeat yet irritable voice.

“Alright, alright” Ryan grumbles. “I’m fuckin’ coming.” And he’s on his way to the door. Or at least he was on his way. Now he’s on the floor, tangled in twisted sheets with blue glitter absolutely everywhere and no idea where it came from.


End file.
